One topic that is particularly contradictory for me is the concept of romance which interestingly enough seems to be a sub-set of human-interaction. Do I desire romance as a standalone concept or am I influenced by the fact that romance is a sub-set of human interaction?
I have found myself to be a hopeless romantic who desires love yet shuns it. I am dying of thirst yet forbid myself to drink a single sip. I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again; “Anything in excess is no different than poison”. I don’t want to drink a sip only for me to sink into a quagmire.
I see others looking for a partner to match their “freak”, a trait that I do find endearing due to my twisted sense of humor. But I’d much rather find a person who could match my yearn. It’s ironic how I long for the idea of a person that would long for me. It’s poetic yet depressing, ultimately shaping the writing that both you and I bear witness for this piece.
My ardent desire for love does not diminish my being or stature as I have learnt that it is a supplement– not a missing piece for me to complete myself. For it is my duty alone to complete myself– how could I use a piece which doesn’t belong to me to complete my very being?
I wished to soar like Icarus yet refused to meet the same fate as him— to be burnt by his own desires. I have tried in the past to engulf a sun with an ocean of ink. Alas the distance was too much for an ink bridge to touch the sun, evaporating the second it left its atmosphere, dying a flare of the sun with an ink compressed by depth.
From these burns, the depth of my ink has folded and withdrawn into the ground. An ink now humbled by time and reality, two binding forces that have transformed it into the ink that forms pixels on your phone. An ink whose touch is old yet soft with the malleability of youth. An ink that bled through pages to strangle injustice– an injustice that still remains intact to this day.
An injustice that I will use flowery words to write about due to censorship concerns that have already manifested itself to my reality.
I do not reject the notion of love itself. It appears to me that I have set my standards much too high– a height inflated by delusions and the same standards that I hold myself to, which honestly makes me happy thinking about it now. It’s all or nothing and I don’t mind settling with nothing.
Now let’s redirect our attention to a few interesting observations that I’ve noticed about people is that:
Sexualization of others is not a trait limited to a single gender. It’s attributed to men due to a combination of factors in which I don’t fully know but at least know of some factors like: Perception in movies, men being more loud about it on average, and etc.
I have had the misfortune to scroll into reels intended for a female audience and open the comment sections on multiple occasions which lends credibility to my opinion. Regardless of gender, it’s still disgusting with some nuances as there are industries and people that pander towards such thinking, therefore making those cases ethically acceptable due to consent.
Hints are one of the worst ways for a person to express an interest in another person. How are you supposed to tell that a person was interested in you just by them doing a few gestures with myriad interpretations?
There’s a damn reason why miscommunication tropes have become popular in romance since it’s become more relatable for the viewers. Sure some hints may be explicit enough for them to work but you also have to account for the person that you’re giving the hint to. A plan is perfect until it is put into practice— never underestimate how oblivious people can be.
There’s also the fact that most hints are subtle enough for them to have plausible deniability in case it doesn’t work out and you want to backtrack. It evolved into a psychological minefield thanks to the ingenuity of the human mind and a lack of resolve/courage.
Our languages have evolved over centuries– just for us to regress socially due to our unwillingness to directly communicate with others instead of twisting words.
Enough about my ranting about this, time to yap about more favourable topics.
Laughter is something that makes people warmer towards another since you’ll at least be able to identify a factor that you share with another person. Another pleasure of mine is malicious compliance. It’s fun making people read through 50 pages of an assignment since I had some extra time or bombarding them with questions during debates for your own amusement. I mean, I put in the effort so I should definitely reap the fruits of my labor.
I love making people laugh. It’s one of the best pleasures that I could ever derive from life. Their laughter is as good as making me laugh. Sadly I’ve learnt to become more stoic in life by keeping a poker face by default to avoid getting in trouble and with the combination of my sense of humor being broken.
It’s ironic how I wish to make other people yet have lost some of my own laughter. Now, how do I make people laugh? I don’t know since it’s more of a natural thing. Maybe because I have a penchant for being unhinged and then proceeding to act as if it’s all normal. I can’t really tell since I don’t really speak a lot unless I have to address the entire class.
I love helping people and making them smile. I like it when people ask me for help or to explain topics to them. It’s not out of a sense of superiority, since I don’t need an exterior source for me to know that I’m superior to others, but the fact that I can impart my knowledge and act as a beacon, guiding them on paths that I wish I could take– paths that I have given up not by choice but by necessity. Giving them sage advice and counsel, explaining problems that they’re stuck on is always something fun to do.
However, I refuse to dream with my eyes closed. I’d rather live in the real world instead of letting my own words fool me. I am in no position to help others. I lack the renown and opportunity to pull this off. My motive for this isn’t pure but is acceptable enough. Another factor that would influence this is how much I care about the way others perceive me.
While I do have a flaming desire for the recognition of others and to share my viewpoint– their recognition of me and their thoughts of me are ultimately irrelevant, even as I continue to worry about those same thoughts.
If I know who I am, that is enough. For it is not the beliefs of others that form me. Nor is it their recognition. I am the one who decides who I am. Others can try, but their attempts to encroach on my sovereignty shall never prosper— for the blame of their misactions fall upon me and I do not intend on casting blame on them for my fault.
They may give their counsel but it is ultimately my prerogative. I will be the one to walk on the path they’ve set up for me. A path incomplete— purposefully made for me to expand and create, with the end of that winding path being my demise.
If there is no proper path for me to walk on— then I will simply build one myself
Let my Failures serve as the first step– without them, I am not me.
Let my ethics form the second step– my binding ethos.
Let my religion form the third step– honoring the covenant I made.
Let my ego form the fourth step– the collection of my thoughts.
Let my heart form the fifth step– it’s rhythm guiding my path.
Let my rationality form the final step– to record all of Me, to ensure that my path can be trodden on by others long after my demise.
So what if I am alone? So what if I do not have friends? So what if I fail?
Does that mean that I’ll simply live my life out in obscurity? With every fiber and thought in my being, I REFUSE.
Be it life or death, I refuse to resign myself in any situation. When my cold blood finally begins to warm up, let the beat of my heart be the source of my strength and body. Let my rationality form my armor. Let my willpower be my faith and rationality. Let the quill in my hand be that of empathy. Let the ink of that quill be my religion. As a proud bearer of my surname, I declare war with this life of mine.
If my hands waver, let my mouth hold my quill. If my ink runs out, let my spilt blood take its place. If I cannot resolve myself with the terms of death, then it is better for me to die in an obscure fate. If my thoughts cannot align, let me truly embody the meaning of multifarious– fully embracing the contradictions that form me.
I am Samez and I have failed countless times in my life. I am not afraid to fail again. After failing so many times, I have already gained spurts of enlightenment alongside maturity and insight. I have limited time for me to fail, for there is a grace period for those of us who have yet to truly become adults.
After that period expires, this world becomes punishing to the sight of failure, so it would be wise to let yourself fall over and over— memorizing the sensation and learning how to get back up. With failure comes growth. With growth comes opportunity. With opportunities comes success. With success comes failure– for success and failure are merely two sides of a coin, your task being to flip it until you reach failure.
Then the cycle begins anew and the experiences of the last cycle carries over, giving you more experience— rigging the odds of the coin flip to your favor. Ofcourse, your options aren’t just limited to a coin flip, if I were you I’d just tape the coin to a table with its side of success looking up.
My words are not words to be followed. My words are here to make you ponder, to make you reflect, to give you inspiration, to help you. Blindly following others is a trait that will kill your individuality and will render you useless once your delusion is over.
Afterthoughts:
Alright I’ve been busy writing and just haven’t uploaded anything since I have become engrossed in writing to such an extent. I want to stay more anonymous now thanks to this piece now lol. I don’t have enough thick skin if I get questioned about this piece. I wrote three pieces with a fourth one partially done and the fifth piece’s structure but have decided to only post two of them due to some issues with the third piece. I plan on salvaging it by reversing its meaning and intent and turning it into the fifth piece.
A way that I’ve learnt to advertise my writing is by checking out the stories I get from recommended people since following is too much of a hassle and feels like an overcommitment. After all, curiosity is a decent motivator and mysteriousness amplifies that. I think it worked due to an increased view count but this is all based on my speculation and may not be accurate.
I have written over 12,000 words so far and I’m proud of that. I wonder how many words I would’ve typed out by my graduation. I guess the switch of purpose for my writing made it that much more enjoyable since I didn’t always write for myself and not for others.
I want to be able to speak these words to add more to its strength, but I know I’ll have my opportunity.
As always, congratulations for reaching the end of yet another one of my pieces.